


a shot of caffeine straight in my heart

by FateChica



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, F/M, at the very least, awkward dorks falling in love, does it counts as a christmas fic if it doesn't take place during christmas?, there's snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:29:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28319007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FateChica/pseuds/FateChica
Summary: Desperate for a place to study during her first semester of freshman year at college, El Hopper tries everything.... until she finds the most perfect café in existence.And, as it turns out, she's not the only person looking for a quiet place to get some work done......
Relationships: Eleven | Jane Hopper/Mike Wheeler
Comments: 15
Kudos: 101





	a shot of caffeine straight in my heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [serendipitous_rambles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/serendipitous_rambles/gifts).



> Merry Christmas everyone!
> 
> Even though Christmas is barely mentioned in this fic, I'm still counting it as one since I wrote it _for_ Christmas. Also, there was a serious lack of Coffee Shop AUs in this fandom and I very much wanted to fix that.
> 
> Also, this is for Jess, who's one of the brightest, most amazing people I know. Hope you like this, dear heart!

It all starts because El’s _desperate_ to find the ideal space to study: quiet, but not silent; cozy, but not stifling. It’s surprisingly, for such a minimal list of requirements, a hard order to fill.

Her dorm room is out – the first crossed off the list, actually. It’s quiet, yes (due to the fact that it’s a single – _thank you, Dad,_ El thinks with a slight curl of her lips), but it’s not the right kind of cozy for studying. It’s fine when she’s just hanging out in her room, either watching a movie with her laptop balanced on her lap or reading one of the many books she made her dad truck up to her 3rd floor dorm room (sometimes, she’s even brave and will leave her door open, the universal signal of ‘come in, I’m open to meeting new people’ to the rest of her fellow freshman floormates – look, she’s trying).

But when it’s time to study, the sparsely decorated walls (thanks, Residence Halls R&Rs) feel like they’re closing in on her with their stark whiteness, leaving El longing for her childhood bedroom with all the posters and pictures and string lights tacked up on the walls. It had been chaotic, yes, but the type of chaotic that blended into the background and helped El focus and it’s something she _definitely_ can’t get in her dorm room.

The library’s not much better. The space is both too quiet _and_ too big, telling El she might have a touch of agoraphobia. She’s fine in the actual outdoors, but something about cavernous indoor spaces is just unsettling.

So, the library’s out, too, along with the dining commons (too loud) and the common room (both too loud _and_ too filled with the smell of still just teenage boys and, god, is El kind of regretting signing up for a mixed floor). In fact, there’s nothing on campus that comes close to fitting the bill of a decent place for her to study, forcing El to explore the streets surrounding the 230 acres that make up Northwestern’s campus. 

Coffee shops and cafes are her best bet and, for a while, El bounces from coffee shop to coffee shop, trying them on like she’s Goldilocks and trying to find the one that’s _just right._

For the first few weeks of her quest, El swears she doesn’t go to the same coffee shop twice. There’s always something _wrong_ with any one of them – too modern or too froufrou-y or too commercial (maybe the Goldilocks metaphor is more on the mark than El would like to admit) – prompting El to cross it off the list and move on to the next.

But this kind of experimentation is exhausting on top of everything else. It’s her first semester of her freshman year at college. El’s supposed to be meeting new people and getting used to the campus and learning to be on her own while maintaining good grades. And she _has_ to maintain good grades. She managed to get a full ride to Northwestern, thanks to the scholarships she qualified for because her dad’s a cop, so she can’t fuck this up. She just _can’t._

This hunt for a good place to study is absolutely the _last_ thing El needs on her plate right now. And, by the time it’s going on about a month into the semester and midterms are starting to peek their heads up over the 6 week horizon, El’s starting to get desperate but feeling like it’s hopeless.

This is, of course, when she stumbles upon _Cocoa-ccino._

Like a lot of things one looks for, El wasn’t _actively_ looking for it when she found it. She was on her way to a completely different café – one that looked cute in the pictures she found on Yelp – when she passed by it on the other side of the street.

It’s the logo at the end of the name that catches her eye first – a cute, little cartoonish cup of coffee with a closed eye smiley face with a little pink tongue poking out of the side, a mound of whipped cream swirled above the lip of the cup, and tiny wisps of steam curling above in adorable curly-cues. The façade is old, faded brick with a wooden door that El would swear is the original door to the shop, with a big, framed glass window in the upper half, and it looks so homey and inviting that El’s feet are carrying her across the street before she’s even fully aware that it’s happening.

If the outside of Cocoa-ccino is cute and inviting, the inside is down right _homey._ It’s like someone took every single thought in El’s mind about what makes something cozy and filtered it through the lens of how to decorate a business with it.

On one wall is a long, built-in cushioned bench with tables for 2 or 4, depending, scattered in front of it. Dotting the rest of the floor is a haphazard collection of tables surrounded by chairs and plush armchairs interspersed with low, coffee tables in front of them. The counter is set on a diagonal across from the door, tucked into the right of the shop with the back of the counter stretching along towards the back of the café. There’s a pastry case next to the register and, all along the counter, are cute, themed cookie jars. There’s a TARDIS one next to one shaped like a sleeping cat, which is next to a rounded, urn shaped cookie jar with a rainbow swirl painted on the side. El recognizes other themed jars and bowls, each cuter and nerdier than the last.

And that doesn’t even begin to describe what she reads on the menu board. Drinks with names like “Mocha Me Crazy” and “I Find Your Lack of Hazlenut Disturbing”, little cookies that are decorated to look like Spider-Man or Harry Potter, and a tea collection that would put even the most fanatic tea drinker to shame.

It takes El all of 5 seconds to fall completely in love. It’s nerdy and cutesy and kitschy by equal measure – not in the exact way El would decorate a room of her own, but close enough that she can’t help but feel absolutely at home inside this warm, slice of heaven.

There’s one other customer in the café – a woman not too much older than El curled up in the back corner of the bench, fingers curled around a wide, latte mug held close to her chest as she watches something on her laptop – but otherwise, the café is completely empty except for the cashier and the barista behind the counter.

It’s the cashier who catches El’s eye, a woman who’s old enough to be El’s mom, and gives her a warm smile that emphasizes the crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes. “Hey, hon, can I getcha anything today?” She asks the question with a tilt of her head that shifts the mass of light brown ringlets, streaked with just a little bit of grey, over one shoulder. 

“Uh… yeah,” El says slowly as she approaches the counter. “Um, can I have….” El’s eyes dance furiously over the drink menu and the pastry case. “‘The Spice Must Flow’ mocha... is that actually spicy?”

The woman lets out a light laugh and shakes her head. “No, we just use Mexican hot chocolate to flavor the drink instead of regular chocolate. It’s just cinnamon and cardamom mixed in with chocolate.”

“Oh, ok, I’ll have that, regular sized and, um….” El focuses her attention on the pastry case. “Just a regular sugar cookie.” She fishes out her wallet from her backpack and pulls out a 10 dollar bill to pay for it. Because her scholarship pays for most everything else, Hop tries to contribute by giving her a fairly hefty monthly allowance with a stern warning that if she needs more, she shouldn’t hesitate to ask because, quote, “it’s still cheaper than what I was planning on having to pay.”

El knows her dad needs to feel useful so she doesn’t try to stop him – instead, she uses the money to treat herself to things like coffee shops and the occasional meal at a restaurant with some of the friends she’s been making.

“For here or to go?” the cashier asks, one eyebrow arched.

“Oh, um, for here, please.”

The cashier pulls off a latte mug off the top of the espresso machine with one hand and sets it aside for the barista to grab, while she takes the 10 dollar bill from El with the other. “Sit wherever you like, hon. I’ll have your drink and cookie out to you in just a sec.”

El leaves her change (all $1.86 of it) in the tip jar by the register and turns to find somewhere to sit. She picks a deep, cushy armchair by the window that looks out from the front of the café, and sinks into it with a sigh as she sets her backpack on the ground. El lets herself luxuriate in the feeling of being warm and comfortable for just a moment or two before she sets herself to the task of picking _which_ subject she wants to study first. She doesn’t have class until 2pm and it’s only just past 10am now, so she has time to knock out at least one class’ worth of reading and homework before then.

El decides to dive deep into her Intro to Psych class – the first of many classes for her major – as a way of pretending that her Calculus homework doesn’t exist for at least a little while longer. And it’s not long until El’s face is all but buried in a textbook that could double as a doorstop.

The cashier comes by after a few minutes with the drink and cookie El paid for, pulling El out of her studies just long enough so she can thank the woman, and then it’s like time just _flies._ El gets into the zone, focus narrowing as the rest of the world tunes out. She comes up for air a couple of times to get a refill or another snack, but otherwise it’s the most productive 3 and a half hours El’s had in _weeks._

El leaves the café with just enough time to get to her 2pm class, a wide smile on her face. _Oh yeah,_ she thinks as she walks through the door and out into the late September afternoon. _I’m **definitely** coming back. _

* * *

  
This is how it starts.

Or, in fairness, maybe it’s better to say that this is the setup, the _prologue_ to the actual start. Introducing the setting, establishing the protagonist, acclimating the audience to the world before the inciting incident kicks off _(damn you, Literary Theory Class)._

It’s only been a week since El discovered Cocoa-ccino and she’s already been back _4 times._ That’s enough that she’s learned that the cashier is _actually_ the owner, that the owner’s name is Mary, and that Mary has already established El’s regular order: a chocolate almond croissant paired with a matcha latte affectionately called “Matcha Matcha Man”.

“How do you come up with these names, anyway?” El asks during this 4th and what will turn out to be fateful visit, as Mary comes over with a mug in one hand and a pastry-laden plate in the other.

“Which, you mean the drinks?” Mary asks, a smile on her face like this isn’t the first time she’s been asked this question.

A blush creeps up El’s cheeks in a little bit of embarrassment. Mary’s looking at her like she’s been waiting for El to ask this question and El doesn’t like feeling predictable (regular order aside, which is just good customer service for Mary to remember). “Well, yeah. I mean, they’re so–”

“Wacky?” Mary helpfully supplies, cutting El off.

“I was gonna say amazing and cute,” El says with a giggle. “But, yeah, sure.”

“I like your words better, sweetheart,” Mary says, using the term of endearment that El’s beginning to learn she uses for all her regulars. “I just read a lot of sci-fi and fantasy books and watch a lot of TV and I like cute and funny names, so it’s a good way to funnel my creativity.”

“Oh, well that’s cool,” El says.

“Why, thank you, sweetheart,” Mary says. “Now, it looks like I should let you get back to studying.”

El turns her gaze down to the table in front of her, where next to the mug and plate Mary just set down, are piles of flashcards, her Psych textbook, and the notebook containing the copious notes she’s taken during lecture. Midterms are just around the corner and the first one up is for her Intro to Psych class, which El is _determined_ to ace. “Oh, yeah, I should… yeah.”

Mary gives her a small smile in parting and leaves El to it. And, for about 20 minutes, El does, quizzing herself with flashcards, looking up the answers in her notes or textbook when she gets them wrong, and taking small bites or sips of her food and drink in between.

Until, that is, the front door all but slams open.

One of the things that El loves about Cocoa-ccino is that there’s never really any people in it and those who are, are _quiet._ Yeah, sure there are customers – a steady stream of people that seem to appear like ghosts and disappear just as quietly – but this really isn’t a bustling part of town, so pretty much none of the students know this place is here. El prefers it this way. If she pretends hard enough, she can believe that this is a magical coffee shop, dreamed up by her subconscious and given form like it’s the Room of Requirement from Harry Potter – something made only for _her._

And _quiet_ is a crucial part of that.

So when the door slams open, there’s already a scowl on El’s face, ready to glare at the person who pierced the bubble of this magical wonderland.

But the scowl quickly disappears when she catches sight of the cutest boy she’s ever laid eyes on.

Or, at least, El’s _pretty_ sure he’ll be the cutest boy she’s ever laid eyes on when she can actually see his whole face. With the way her chair is oriented in relation to the counter and the front door, she can only see him in ¼ profile, just the very right edge of his face where it curves into the side of his head. But what she can see of the _rest_ of him is enough to make her feel all gooey from the butterflies that are flapping away madly inside her stomach.

He’s _tall_ is the first thing she notices – like, as tall as her dad kind of tall, over 6’ kind of tall. He’s tall and lean, wearing dark wash jeans that fit close to the lines of his body without being snug and a faded, grey sweatshirt that does nothing to hide the span of his shoulders. That, paired with the sharp corner of a strong jaw and a delicate outer sweep of a cheekbone, has El swooning (and, to be honest, it’s a distraction she doesn’t need right at this moment, but that’s a faint worry in the back of El’s mind) and she can’t tear her eyes away as he approaches the counter.

It’s only then that she notices the tension that radiates from every inch of him, frantic and frazzled, and now El’s not just attracted, she’s _curious._

“Hi, hon, what can I get you?” Mary asks as the guy steps up to the counter, calm where he’s manic.

“Uh, I don’t know,” he says, even though he’s already reaching for his wallet tucked away in his back jean pocket (with El’s eye unavoidably drawn to his hand with its large palm and graceful fingers). “Whatever the special today is, I guess.”

Mary smiles. “Alright, one ‘Engage, Number One’, coming right up.”

That catches the guy’s attention away from where he’s fishing money out of his wallet and he pauses, staring at Mary. “Wait, is that a Star Trek reference?”

“Yes sir, it is,” Mary says, smile turning into a grin. “It’s an earl grey latte. Normally, that’s called a London Fog, but we do things a little differently around here.”

There’s a beat, a moment of consideration, before he breathes out a near silent laugh. “So cool,” he says, almost under his breath, like he’s forgotten all about being frantic and frazzled. But it’s only a second before his shoulders go tense again under the weight of his backpack. “Yeah, I’ll take one of those. How much do I owe you?”

Mary completes the transaction with her normal, kind efficiency and El hurries to look away as the guy starts looking around for a place to sit, not wanting to be caught staring at a stranger like a total creep.

El keeps her head down, “focused” on her flashcards, all the while tracking him out the corner of her eye. He settles on the other side of the café on the cushioned bench, backpack sliding off his shoulder to sit pressed up against his hip. El watches through her lashes as, once settled, he takes off his sweatshirt in that way that only guys can do – one hand reaching behind him to grab a handful of fabric and pull it forward over his head – and his hands absently rearrange the t-shirt that he was wearing beneath it. He goes to root through his backpack for a shiny laptop and, the entire time he’s setting it up on the table in front of him, El’s heart is beating out a rapid staccato of _cute, cute, cute._

Because this guy _really is_ the cutest boy she’s ever seen. Dark eyes and equally dark hair that’s almost a little curly at the ends, a strong jaw that El wants to trace with her fingertips, beautiful cheekbones and full, cherry red lips. He’s beautiful and handsome by equal measure and El’s just _enchanted._ Her heart’s doing acrobatics in her chest and her skin feels alive with electricity like she’s never felt before.

And she’s absolutely, positively staring at him like some kind of creepy stalker while she holds a pile of flashcards that aren’t going to quiz themselves for a midterm she _desperately_ needs to study for. El sucks in a deep breath and makes herself focus on the important things which, until this moment, she never had to convince herself didn’t include cute boys.

So, her brain takes it upon herself to come up with a compromise: for every 10 flashcards she gets right, she can steal a peek of Tall, Dark, and Cute sitting across the café (20 was too many and 5 seemed greedy, so 10 was the compromise). It’s a good motivator, really, and El’s surprised she never thought of it before. It’s just enough structure to keep her focused with the added prize at the end for a successful string of correct guesses that keeps her intent on making sure she’s getting the right answer.

Her heart skips a beat with each look she gets of him – so cute and just _sitting_ there blissfully unaware that he’s completely upended her whole apple cart. But, even through the haze that comes with a burgeoning crush, El can’t help but notice that the frazzled air around him when he first walked into the coffee shop hasn’t faded so much as morphed into a persistent frustration, all furrowed brow and slumped shoulders as he frowns at his computer screen, fingers typing madly away with a ferocity that El only associates with, like, hackers or supervillians or something.

El’s heart goes out to him – she’s no stranger to frustration, though maybe not his specific kind – so she knows how it is to feel like you’re running against a wall over and over again.

He’s so focused on whatever he’s doing that he barely even looks away from the screen, not even to reach for his drink, so he definitely hasn’t noticed that El can’t take her eyes off of him.

That changes, though, only a few minutes later. El’s in the middle of her fourth count of 10 right answers (she’s on 6 out of 10) when he lets out a loud growl and slams the lid of his laptop down with a crash. The sound, so sudden in the quiet air of the café, makes El jump in her seat, a squeak leaving her as she looks up with wide eyes at the source.

He’s sitting with one hand clapped over his eyes, elbow propped on the table to hold up his head as he slumps over. “Goddammit, I hate programming,” he says out loud. He takes in a deep breath, like he’s trying to steady himself, before he braves looking at the world once more, a resigned expression flitting across his face.

And, when he does, his gaze almost immediately meets hers across the café. The tired look on his face freezes, turning into a deer-in-the-headlights panic. Which, to be fair, El completely gets since she’s staring at him because of his crazy-man-in-café outburst and, if she were him, she’d be embarrassed at looking like she was losing her shit in public and getting caught.

But there’s something else there, some sort of mystical serendipity, life-going-into-slow-motion thing happening that El has absolutely _no_ explanation for. Like her whole life has been waiting for this exact moment right here and, now that she’s here, the universe is going to make sure she knows it’s happening.

The panic is gone from his face – and from hers, if she’s being honest – leaving a sort of breathless confusion in its wake. El desperately wants to know what that means – _does he find her pretty? is he just wondering why he caught her staring at him like a weirdo?_ – but she’s not a mind reader, so her desires are immaterial in this moment.

What El does, instead, is something she hopes is helpful: she gives him a sympathetic smile – she figures it might be nice for him to know he’s not alone in how he’s feeling – holding his gaze just long enough for him to smile back (which is shakier than hers and tinged with nervous gratitude, but undeniably there) before she wrenches her attention back on her studies. He’s aware of her now and that knowledge saps El’s bravery in stealing glances while she studies, so she keeps her eyes firmly on her flashcards and textbook – no more rewarding herself with cute boy glances.

El gets one more look at him, though, and that’s as she’s leaving to head off to her afternoon classes. Her gaze naturally slides over him as she turns to leave and her movement must have caught his attention, because he’s staring straight at her when her eyes land on him. El gives him one more smile – not one born from sympathy, but hopefully warm nonetheless – and shoulders her backpack before she heads out of the café, a shiver running down her spine as she feels his eyes follow her all the way to the door.

* * *

  
El sees him in Cocoa-ccino four more times before the opportunity to speak to him arises. Only one of those times is he already there when she gets there. The other three, she’s already parked in her usual spot when he walks in, buys his drink, and goes to what’s become his usual table bench seat. None of the times, is he as frazzled and frustrated as that first time El saw him.

They don’t talk, though. Not in all the hours they spend in the café, each of them mostly devoted their individual schoolwork. This doesn’t stop El from stealing glances at him, however. And, even more thrilling, sometimes when she looks at him, she catches him looking back at her.

But there’s no reason to do anything more than exchange smiles (which mostly feel like ones born from the camaraderie of taking refuge in this café to study for their classes), so El stays silent. She knows it’ll happen eventually, though. He seems to have become a regular just like her.

Mary calls _him_ “sweetheart”, too. He smiles each time she says it, soft and fond and a little bemused and El so very much wants to run her fingers over that smile.

But there’s still the little matter of the fact that _they haven’t talked yet_ standing in the way of that (among other things like, oh say, being in a relationship – y’know, just the little technicalities and all).

That is, until… _El’s calculus midterm._

Calculus is a foreign beast to El. She was always good at math going through school, but calculus seems to throw all the rules she thought she knew out the window and replaces them with gibberish.

She pours over her notes, watches instructional videos on Youtube, and practically camps out in her TA’s office hours… none of it does more than help just a little. El’s starting to think that she maybe needs a tutor, but the tutoring center on campus is always packed and private tutors are expensive. So she doesn’t know what to do.

For the moment, though, there’s nothing _to_ do but sit in her usual spot in Cocoa-ccino and pour over her graded assignments to try to see how she went wrong so she can fix it for next time.

But it’s gibberish and, in a fit, El lets out a petulant whine and tosses her graded assignment onto the table with a harsh flick of her wrist. It skips off her textbook and goes sliding off onto the floor….

Right into _his_ feet as he walks towards the counter.

El’s eyes, which had been following the path of her assignment with a sort of resigned weariness, widen as her gaze scans up his legs, up and up towards his face, which is now turned towards her, looking down with eyebrows arched up high on his forehead. He’s looking really cute today, in his usual dark washed jeans with a crisp, pale blue button up, scuffed Converse on his feet, and hair a little windswept from the autumn breeze outside.

It really doesn’t help and in fact only contributes to the fierce blush that explodes onto El’s cheeks. “Oh, god, I’m _so_ sorry.” She starts to move so she can lean over and grab her discarded papers from off the floor–

– But he beats her to it, kneeling down with those impossibly long legs. “It’s ok,” he says as his fingers, those _graceful_ fingers, curl around the edges of her papers and pick them up off the floor. He looks at her as he stands back up, a small, shy grin, a little uncertain but _wholly_ adorable. “Here, looks like you dropped these.” He holds the papers out to her, waiting for her to take them, which El does with fingers that _somehow_ don’t tremble.

“Thanks,” she says, heart thumping wildly in her chest. She manages to smile up at him before she has to duck her gaze, overwhelmed at the simple fact that she’s finally, _finally,_ talking to _him._

“So, um, you taking calculus?” El’s gaze flicks back up to him, face folding in confusion. He keeps smiling at her, some of the uncertainty fading. “I recognize the textbook.”

El spares a second to look at her calculus textbook before she looks back up at him. “Oh, um, yeah, yeah I am.” Memory rushes in a second later and she groans. “Not very well, though.”

“What’s giving you trouble?” he asks. The confusion grows on El’s face – she can _feel_ it while her head cocks at an angle as she looks up at him – and he hurries to keep talking before she can even question his question. “Not that you couldn’t figure it out, I’m sure – I always see you studying here, so you must be smart –” Something in what he said seems to have flustered him because he blushes fiercely and words begin tripping over themselves on their way out his mouth, he’s so flustered. “Oh, not that I’ve been watching you, or anything! That would be creepy – like really creepy – it’s just that you’re here a lot? And there aren’t a lot of people in here so it’s hard _not_ to notice the people who are here all the time and –” 

He stops, eyes slamming shut as he presses his lips together, clamping down on the rest of the word vomit that El has a feeling could have kept coming for quite some time. It’s somehow the most endearing thing El’s ever experienced, his frantic nervousness. It’s charming how he can compliment her with one breath and then freak out that he’s maybe insulted her with the other. It’s just so _sincere,_ El almost can’t take it.

“What I mean to say,” he says after taking in a deep breath and opening his eyes back up to look at her. “Is that I’m pretty good at calculus so I could help you? If you wanted. Not that you have to accept help from a total stranger or anyth–”

“It’s limits,” El rushes to say, cutting him off before he can pick up steam once more. He stops, mouth hanging open as he looks down at her. “I don’t understand how they work. And I have a midterm on them next week, so I’m kind of hopeless.” 

The unspoken acceptance of his help is embedded in her explanation and he seems to recognize it because he smiles at her, a toothy smile that lights up his entire face with a boyish eagerness. El takes it back. _This_ is the most endearing thing she’s ever experienced: the brightness of his expression, the excited twinkle in his eye, the hurried way he rushes to take his backpack off his shoulders and sit down in the adjacent armchair nearby. 

“Limits,” he repeats with a sound that is nearly a chuckle. “Well, you’re in luck because limits are my specialty.” It’s an awkward phrase with an unintentional double entendre (not a gross one, but a funny one) and it takes him a second to hear it because he blushes again. “Wait, that’s not–”

A giggle breezes out of her and El holds up a hand to stop him from digging himself into a deeper hole. “It’s ok,” she says, still laughing a little. She can’t help it – he’s just _so_ cute. “I understood what you meant.” Instead of lowering her hand, she extends it to where he’s sitting. “I’m El, by the way.”

He grins that toothy grin once more and takes the offered hand with a gentle shake. El tries to ignore the way her every nerve lights up like a Christmas tree at the touch of his palm to hers. “I’m Mike.”

“There, now I’m not accepting help from a total stranger,” El says with a flirty lilt that is _completely_ outside of her control. Doesn’t stop her from blushing at the sound of her own voice, her cheeks burning so bright they’d probably be visible from space if she was outside. She clears her voice and soldiers on (and tries not to notice the dopey way he’s smiling at her – yes, she knows she’s awkward and she doesn’t need to be reminded of it, thank you). “And, if you’re going to help me, you have to at least let me repay you with one of Mary’s drinks.”

A blush of Mike’s own _(and thank **god** she finally knows his name) _ works its way up his face. “Oh, no, you don’t have to–”

“‘The Princess Is In Another Castle’, as usual, sweetheart.” Mary’s voice cuts in from seemingly out of nowhere.

“I’ll pay for it,” El rushes to say, looking up at Mary as the older woman sets down the drink next to where El’s own usual is sitting, already halfway gone.

Mary gives her a wink before she turns. “I’ll put it on your tab,” she says despite the fact that no tab _actually_ exists. El lets out a huffed breath with a shake of her head – _that woman is the **strangest** …. _ – before she turns to look back at Mike, who’s blushing even harder than he was 5 seconds ago.

“Ok, you see, the drink name,” Mike stutters, sounding embarrassed. “It’s not–”

El laughs. “Hey, no judgment. My usual is a ‘Matcha, Matcha Man’. Mary just likes having fun with naming things.”

A laugh kind of wheezes out of Mike as he settles. “Yeah, I can see that.”

El’s lips twist up in a grin. “I’m curious, though. Your drink, what is it?”

Mike’s gaze flickers a bit _(is El seeing things or was he looking at her mouth?)_ before a gentle smile creeps up onto his face. “It’s a decaf vanilla latte.” He lets out a chuckle. “As you can probably tell, I don’t really need the extra caffeine. I’m already jittery enough as it is.”

“Well, my drink doesn’t have coffee in it _at all_ for a café that has part of the word ‘cappuccino’ in it _,_ so….” El says with a shrug.

Some of Mike’s nervous energy sloughs off of him as he visibly relaxes. “Well, thanks for the drink.”

“Hey, if you can show me where I’m going wrong with limits, we’ll call it even,” El says with an arched eyebrow and a tilt of her head.

An determined grin – _challenge accepted_ – pulls up on Mike’s lips as he angles the armchair he’s in so El can walk him through her work. “Ok, show me what you’ve got so far….”

* * *

  
It takes El approximately 5 minutes to realize that Mike isn’t just smart – he’s _really_ smart. He easily spots where El is going wrong with limits with barely any effort at all before he dives in to trying to explain how she can fix her mistakes and prevent them from happening again. El almost misses the explanation because she’s so busy watching the intelligence dance across Mike’s face, lighting up every inch of his handsome features.

But she forces herself to listen – because he’s so nicely taking his time to explain this to her – and El realizes that Mike is _also_ a good teacher on top of being super intelligent, because he’s able to explain limits in a half an hour in a way that her actual calculus teacher hasn’t been able to do over the last 6 weeks of lecture. 

And, once El is finished profusely thanking him for taking the time to help her, she has a question for him… or, more like a plea for help. “So, if I ever need more help, would free espresso drinks be a good form of payment?” she asks.

Mike gives her a wide-eyed stare, mouth hanging open almost guppy-like. “You’d… want more help?”

A sad giggle escapes from El with a sigh. “Not want, more like _need,_ but, yeah. You’re a better teacher than my _actual_ Calculus professor and I _really_ need to pass this class to keep my scholarship, so–”

“Yeah, sure, of course!” Mike says, almost too eagerly.

El realizes that if she’s going to ask him to tutor her, though, that espresso drinks _probably_ aren’t a good form of payment and a shamed blush explodes on her cheeks. “I mean, I can _actually_ pay you, like fairly compensate you for your time – you don’t have to be paid in coffee,” she says, fingers picking at her jeans where they’re stretched over one knee as she stares down at her lap in embarrassment.

“No, no, coffee’s good,” Mike rushes to say. “I mean, as long as it’s decaf and everything because, yeah….” 

El looks back up at him, a frown playing at the corner of her lips as her brow furrows. “Are you sure? Because I _can_ pay you.”

Mike smiles, a lopsided grin that does things to El’s heart, and gives a half shrug that is more charming than it has any right to be. “Yeah, I’m sure. The best way to get better at something is to teach it to someone else, you know? Besides….” He trails off, expression suddenly going shy. “You’re not going to need my help all the time and, since, like, we’re both in this coffee shop a lot, I was thinking… we could be study buddies?”

A smile begins to grow on El’s face despite the fact that she’s also confused. “Study buddies?”

Her smile must encourage him, because the shyness all but disappears from Mike’s face. “Yeah, like, a friend you study with to help keep you company _and_ keep you accountable.” He pauses, looking a bit panicked, like he’s overstepped some sort of invisible boundary. “Not that we’re friends, or anything – I mean, you just met me.”

Something alights in El’s heart, taking wing and making her feel like she’s floating off the ground. “Ok,” she says, voice a touch breathless.

“Wait, really?” Mike asks, smiling like he can’t believe what’s happening.

“Yeah, really,” El says, face heating up from the happiness rushing through her. “Study buddies sounds good.”

“Awesome, great! That’s….”

“Awesome?” El says with a giggle, trying to finish Mike’s trailed off sentence.

A deprecating laugh leaves him and Mike shakes his head, like he can’t believe himself or something. “Yeah, awesome.”

And, just like that, El suddenly has a new friend – a very cute, very smart new friend who makes for great company while she’s studying. They coordinate schedules and exchange numbers that day – “Open communication is key to being a good study buddy,” Mike says in a rushed, mumbled sort of way, like he’s trying to reassure her he’s not asking for her number for “nefarious purposes” – and life very quickly settles into a routine.

El meets up with Mike at Cocoa-ccino at least 4 times a week, buying him decaf espresso drinks when he helps her out with Calculus (she _swears_ the B+ she got on her midterm is 100% because of his help), and just… _talking_ to him when they both need a quick break from their studies.

It’s here, as they sit at a table tucked into the corner by the door (their new usual spot), that El Hopper learns as much as she possibly can about one Mike Wheeler, this beautiful boy who she’s had the good fortune to be able to welcome into her life. She finds out he’s from Indiana like her (the small town _her dad’s_ from, of all places, in fact) and that he’s here at Northwestern with two of his three best friends, with the third a bit further south in Chicago at the Art Institute. He’s a freshman (like her), studying Electrical Engineering _(not_ like her), and he’s struggling to balance the pressure of being on his own for the first time with the pressure of doing well in school to make his parents proud _(very_ much like her).

El also discovers that Mike’s nerdy, with a passion for Lord of the Rings that rivals hers for Harry Potter, and that on top of being ridiculously cute, he’s also sweet, funny, and so smart it makes her head spin sometimes. He’s courteous – always asking how she’s doing and showing genuine interest or concern depending on how she’s feeling, insisting on walking her back to campus when they’re studying late to make sure she gets back ok – and adorably awkward with the way he sometimes stumbles on his words or his own two feet in his rush to try and do something nice for her, whether it’s buy her a fancy cookie from the pastry case or tell her how pretty her hair looks that day. And the way he looks at her… _god,_ the way he looks at her, like she’s some sort of divine creature who’s graced him with her presence, like he can’t believe she’s real and voluntarily spending time with him.

It’s… there’s almost no words for how it makes El feel. It’s like Mike’s courting her without either of them explicitly acknowledging that it’s happening. And El’s glad that, whatever this is, is taking its time, like she’s being slowly warmed up in a pot of water, allowed to get used to it. She’s never felt like this about a boy, never _wanted_ to feel like this about a boy, and it’s nice that she doesn’t have to worry about rushing into anything while trying to worry about everything else. Namely, surviving her first semester at college.

So, the multiple study dates each week… which is as close as El gets to _any_ kind of date with Mike for the moment. It’s not that she doesn’t see Mike outside of the café – she’s seen him a few times on campus (always from a distance) and he’s invited her to hang out with his friends a few times, which is nice since she really likes his friends. But El finds that she _really_ likes spending time with Mike when it’s just the two of them and, for the moment, their meet-ups at the cafe are the best she’s got.

This is how she passes the semester: buoyed by Mike’s presence _and_ his help, driven by her need to survive, and all fueled by the delicious food and drinks Mary provides them with seamless ease. Even still, even as she’s watching it approach, it _still_ feels like finals week sneaks up on her and, suddenly, there’s no more room for anything besides existential dread and feeling like she’s being marched to her doom.

But El feels a little bit of hope because Mike’s still at her side, coaching her through her lowest moments and letting her support him in return when he’s at his.

This moment, the night before her first final, is one of _her_ low moments, a sudden hopelessness that sweeps over her as she looks down at her Calculus notes and sees only gibberish staring back at her. Yes, she knows it’s because she’s been sitting here studying for the past 6 hours in a row and that it’s late in the day, the sun long having since set, and that she’s tired, _so_ tired. But, in this moment, none of that pierces through the cloud of doubt that now surrounds her. “God, I’m going to _fail,”_ she says with a long suffering groan, head falling into her hands as she plants her elbows on the table, careful to avoid the fresh drink Mary brought to her not 5 minutes ago.

“Hey, no, don’t say that. You’re not going to fail,” Mike says from off to her right, sitting in the adjacent chair at their usual table.

“How can you say that?” El says into her muffled hands. She can’t bear to look at him, can’t let him see the shame of her impending failure.

“Because I’ve seen how hard you’ve worked this semester, El, and there’s _no way_ you’re going to fail,” he says, chair creaking a bit as he moves. Before El can wonder what he’s doing, she feels the ghost of his hand on her shoulder, just barely touching her like he’s ready to remove it at a moment’s notice at her direction. But El doesn’t flinch away from Mike’s touch (she likes it too much even though it makes her skin tingle in the most distracting way) and his hand rests heavier on his shoulder, its weight comfortably solid through her sweater.

Despite herself, the beginnings of a smile creep up onto El’s mouth and she removes her face from her hands so she can look at him. “Yeah?”

The sight of Mike’s gently smiling face, warm and fond and so full of belief in _her,_ makes her heart clench and swell so fiercely in her chest, it nearly takes her breath away. “Yeah. You _got_ this. I _know_ you do.”

The urge to kiss Mike bubbles up in her so suddenly that El barely stops herself in time. This has been happening a lot – more and more often with every day that passes – but this exact moment is _not_ the right time. Still doesn’t stop her from wanting it, though, almost needing it more than she needs air. “Thank you, Mike,” she says, just above a whisper.

Mike gives her shoulder a reassuring squeeze before he removes his hand slowly, like he doesn’t want to pull away (El _definitely_ doesn’t want him to pull away). “Don’t mention it.”

“No, really, you’re good at this,” El says with a look and a nod to where Mike’s hand had just been on her shoulder.

Mike’s forehead furrows and he frowns just a little bit – _god,_ confusion looks cute on him. “What, pats on the back?” he asks, nose scrunching.

El lets out a laugh, sweetly amused. _Oh, bless him._ “Well, that too. But I was talking about being comforting.”

“Oh!” Mike blinks, taken aback, and a blush creeps up his cheeks. “Well, um, you know….”

El doesn’t say anything, knowing that she’s just embarrassed Mike by explicitly complimenting him. Instead, she reaches and gives his forearm, sweater-clad like her own, a comforting squeeze of her own, a simple kindness repaid. She smiles at him when he looks at her and a quiet moment of understanding passes between them – El never wants it to stop.

It does, though, and they get back to studying without mentioning it further. They keep studying until Mary closes up the café for the night, pressing to-go cups of hot cocoa into their hands and telling them to “bundle up because it’s snowing outside” as they don jackets, gloves, and scarves to ward off the cold December Chicago night.

As promised, it’s lightly snowing when Mike and El are ushered out through the cafe’s front door and it’s like the beginnings of a winter wonderland being built right before their eyes. The streetlights are on along the street and the light makes the powdery snowflakes that drift down from the heavens shine and shimmer just so on their way down to the ground beneath them.

“Can I walk you back to your dorm?” Mike asks, quiet and hopeful. The snowfall muffles all sound around them, making Mike’s words sound soft, intimate… _romantic._

A flurry of butterflies takes off in El’s stomach with delight (and a touch of mania – it _is_ finals week, after all) and she smiles up at him, gloved fingers curling around her cocoa. “You _always_ walk me back to my dorm when we leave here late at night.”

Mike grins, the curl of his lips the kind of slightly dopey he seems to only get around her. “Well, I’m asking this time. Trying to be a gentleman.”

El can’t help the giggle that bubbles out of her as they start their usual walk back to campus. “Let me know how that works out for you,” she says with a teasing arch of her eyebrow.

Mike nudges his elbow into her upper arm. “Hey, I’m trying to be nice, here. I don’t have to, you know.”

“Mike, I don’t think you know how to be anything _other_ than nice.” It’s like the giggles won’t stop and El’s powerless against them. She’s just too happy in this moment, living in the privacy that only a walk during a snowfall can bring with the boy she _desperately_ likes.

“Has anyone ever told you it’s unfair how well you have me nailed?” Mike grumbles, but he’s smiling despite it.

That draws out an earnest laugh from El – her first in what feels like _days_ – and she’s so grateful to Mike that he can give her moments like this, where she can just be happy and free. “So, you ready for your Programming final tomorrow?”

Mike shudders and it’s not because of the cold. “God, that class is going to be the _death_ of me.”

“You’re telling me,” El says with a snort. “I think _I’m_ dreaming about syntax errors now, too, having heard you rail against them so often.”

“The sooner I’m done with that final tomorrow, the better. Then, no more programming for me, uh-uh. Nope, never again.”

They spend the next several minutes engaging in mutual complaining about their upcoming finals, a time honored tradition among college students everywhere. Cups of cocoa are consumed, if a little faster than El would prefer if it weren’t freezing outside, and when they hit the edge of campus, both she and Mike toss their now empty cups in one of the trash cans they find, leaving El to stuff her hands into the pockets of her coats to give them something else to do other than awkwardly swing back and forth at her sides.

The dorms aren’t that far from the edge of campus, so El knows that her time with Mike for the day is rapidly coming to an end, as much as she hates it. She _also_ knows she won’t have time to miss it too much as she’s almost 100% positive the second she’s back in her room, she’s going to put in a pair of earbuds, pull up her favorite focus playlist, and run through her Calculus notes _one more time_ before trying to get a good night sleep.

But Mike, it seems, has a question for her, so El can easily put off thinking about how the next couple hours of her life are going to go for at least a few more minutes. “So, are you going home right after your finals end?”

Finals week goes from Monday through Friday and El has one a day starting on the first day of finals, so she’s done by Wednesday. Mike knows this, though – she’s whined about getting hit with her finals right out of the gate – so she doesn’t need to tell him this again. “Nope, my dad isn’t able to come pick me up until Saturday – can’t get the time off work – and he doesn’t want me taking a bus back to Indianapolis, so I’m just gonna hang around and, like, binge watch things I haven’t been able to binge watch since the semester really got going.” El smiles, giving him a sideways glance as they walk. The falling snow acts as a diffuser for the light of the street lamps and it’s doing all sorts of soft and romantic things to the light that illuminates Mike’s face, things that make El’s heart go all pitter-patter in her chest. “How about you?”

“Kinda the same,” Mike says. “Only I’m heading back Friday night since Dustin, Lucas, and I are heading back together and they don’t finish their finals until Friday.”

El knows that Mike is _also_ done with his finals on Wednesday. “So, what are _you_ going to do with your pre-winter break free time?”

“Actually, that’s kinda what I wanted to talk to you about,” Mike says through a nervous laugh that breezes out of him, ending in a breath that sounds kind of shaky.

“Oh yeah?” A nervous, excited flutter ripples through El. Is what she thinks happening… _actually_ happening? God, she hopes it is.

They’re nearly to the building where El’s dorm room is (with the building Mike lives in just a couple of buildings down the path) and Mike slows as they reach where the walkway to the front door splits off from the main path, concrete dusted with a light coating of snow, too cold to start turning into slush. “Yeah,” Mike says as they stop just off to the side of the walkway, their usual farewell spot. He hesitates to meet her eye as he turns to face her, seemingly fascinated with watching his fingers straighten out his backpack strap. And when he does, there’s no mistaking the naked nervousness in his eyes.

El’s heart goes out to him (even as it’s beating wildly in her chest). “So… what about it?” she prompts gently, giving him what she hopes is a welcoming, reassuring smile.

Mike’s lips twitch in a faint hint of a smile and some of the nervousness melts away. “Well, it’s just, we’ve been studying together all semester. A-and, don’t get me wrong, it’s been great – really, you’re the best study buddy I could have asked for–”

El giggles, cutting him off. “Oh really? The best, huh?” she asks, one eyebrow arching coyly. She doesn’t even feel the cold anymore, pushed out by the hope that buzzes across every nerve.

“Yeah, the best,” Mike says with a breathy chuckle, but the smile that accompanies the laugh stays after the laugh has ended. “But, I was thinking, what if we spent some time together _not_ studying? Maybe dinner, or something? On Thursday? To celebrate surviving the semester.”

 _Dinner, he’s asking her out to **dinner**. _ El’s heart feels so full, it pushes all the air out of her lungs, leaving her feeling breathless and dizzy. She stares up at Mike, at his wonderfully handsome face staring down at her with the most poignant hope she’s ever seen, and tries to get her brain to form the words she desperately wants to say as her mouth falls open in the most pleasant surprise.

_(if she could hear inside his head – she can’t, but if she **could** – she’d hear this: say yes, **please** say yes – god, the snow looks so pretty in her hair – no, **she’s** so pretty – does she know i’m asking her out on a date? i hope she knows – god, please, **please** ….) _

El’s mouth recovers from hanging agape, lips stretching up in the beginnings of a smile she has no ability to control. “You mean… like a date?”

The air rushes out of Mike with a breathless laugh. “Yeah, like a date.” He pauses, eyes going wide with protective fear. “I mean, if you want. If not, we could just go out and celebrate as–”

El doesn’t want him to _ever_ finish that sentence. So, she doesn’t let him. “Where would we go on this date?”

Maybe it’s the intrigue in her voice, or the smile on her face, or maybe just the fact that she’s still calling it a date – El’s not sure which – but the most beautiful smile just _explodes_ on Mike’s face, lighting him up. “I, uh, actually hadn’t gotten that far,” he says with another laugh, one gloved hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. “I was a little more focused on just asking you, first.”

“Well, you should probably figure that out,” El says, voice light and, god help her, a little flirty. “After all, I need to know what kind of outfit I need to be planning.”

Mike goes still for a moment, hopeful disbelief creeping up into his eyes. “Does that mean you want to go on a date with me?”

El nods, smiling so hard she thinks her face might break. “Yeah, it does.” She reaches for him, hand resting lightly on the back of his arm, just above his elbow, forcing her to step closer to him. “I would _love_ to go on a date with you, Mike.”

Mike’s whole body just _sags_ with relief, palpable and radiating from every inch of him. “Oh, thank god. I was gonna feel like the biggest idiot if you didn’t.”

“You’re not an idiot, Mike,” El says, feeling so happy she could just burst.

“Oh, that’s debatable,” Mike says with a small grin. “But I’m glad you think so, anyway.” He lets out a shaky breath and nods in the direction of his dorm. “I should probably get back to my room, do some more studying before trying to sleep.”

“Yeah, same,” El says with a sigh, not wanting this moment to end but knowing that she can’t stand out here with Mike all night. “Will you do one thing for me, though?”

The way Mike’s expression immediately blossoms with eagerness makes El feel things she’s never felt before, a rich tapestry of emotion that completely defies name. “Anything, just name it.”

“Remember to let me know where and when our date is going to be,” El says. “I gotta make sure I’m dressed nicely enough.”

“Oh, where we’re going will be a surprise,” Mike says. “But I’ll let you know what time I’ll come pick you up and how nice you should dress.” He ducks his gaze, blushing a little. “Even though you’ll look beautiful no matter what you wear.”

It’s the first time Mike’s ever outright called her beautiful and, oh, if El could just find a way to bottle up this feeling so she can experience it over and over again whenever she wants for the rest of her life, she would in a heartbeat. As it is, she’s realizing she’s already counting the _seconds_ until she gets to hear it again… _if_ she gets to hear it again. “Thank you,” she all but whispers with cheeks warm enough to melt the snowflakes that touch down onto her skin. “Well, I should probably go inside,” she says as she stares up at him, transfixed by the way he’s looking down at her, awe writ large in his gaze, and finds she has to fight to try and make herself move away.

“Yeah, you probably should,” Mike says and his lips quirk with a soft smile, resigned but still elated.

El finds herself not moving away, though. Instead, she finds herself moving even closer, pushing up on her toes as she angles her face to press a kiss to Mike’s cheek. She hears his sharp intake of breath before she feels him move and her lips are just about to graze his cheek as she wonders _why_ he’s moving, but it’s too late to stop to ask him without losing her balance and–

Her mouth lands on his cheek, but also _not_ on his cheek, the center of her lips pressed to the corner of his mouth in some sort of weird half kiss that, despite its weirdness, _still_ manages to send a bolt of pleasure straight down her spine, warming her up from within even as it makes every inch of her skin tingle like champagne sparkling along every nerve.

The feeling is so shocking that El gasps, quickly leaning back to look up at Mike to try and figure out what happened….

Only to see him take a hurried step back, eyes wide and embarrassed, mouth already moving with a flurry of apologies, hands held out in front of him defensively. “Oh god – oh _my_ god. Holy shit, I’m so sorry! I totally misread that – I didn’t know you were only aiming for my cheek and, god, now I’ve completely ruined this. It’s just, I’ve never kissed a girl before and I panicked when you got close and I–”

“Hey, stop,” El says after she manages to catch her breath, breathless from both the half kiss _and_ from the explosion of words that just poured out of Mike. “You didn’t misread anything, ok? I was just surprised.”

Mike pauses, lips parted as he sucks in a mouthful of air, and looks down at her with a furrowed brow, like he’s resisting the urge to squeeze his eyes shut and hide until it’s all over. “I didn’t? You were?”

El lets out a soft sigh and smiles. “Yeah, in fact….” She ducks her gaze for just a second, needing the moment to gather herself. “If you wanted, we could try that again. Only, your version this time.”

“Even after I just told you I’ve never kissed a girl before?” Mike asks, embarrassment fading. But there’s a shaky smile on his face that speaks to his nervousness… and to hope.

“Well, I’ve never kissed a guy before, so I suppose we’re evenly matched,” El says, a nervous giggle tacked on at the end.

“You sure about this?” Mike asks and El recognizes that he’s giving her an out, just in case she suddenly changes her mind.

But El doesn’t think she’s ever wanted anything more, so changing her mind isn’t anywhere _close_ to an option. “Mike,” she says, his name leaving her lips with a sigh that is almost a caress. “Just kiss me.” Her hand moves up his arm to his shoulder and she’s already leaning up towards him before she’s finished speaking.

Mike doesn’t say anything else as he nods, but El hears the stutter of his breathing as he leans back towards her, bending down just as she pushes up. The warmth of him envelopes her just before the fullness of his mouth presses against hers in a soft kiss that sets off a symphony of explosions inside her chest. She sucks in a gasp through her nose and slides her hand up to cup Mike’s cheek, gloved fingers curling up and over the sweep of his cheekbone as she tries to hold him as close to her as possible.

Nothing has ever felt as good as this does and, if the sound that rumbles from Mike’s throat is any indication, he’s in complete agreement.

The kiss comes to a slow, if reluctant end and El finds she can barely catch her breath as she pulls back just far enough to look up into Mike’s eyes. His hand has reached out for her, curling so gently around her waist that El can barely feel it through her jacket. And the look in his eyes – warm and open and vulnerable – is the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen.

“I think we should try that again,” Mike says, voice thick as he swallows heavily, not even trying to contain his eagerness.

“Oh, absolutely,” El says with a nod so vigorous, it almost makes her dizzy. “For science.”

“God, how are you so perfect?” Mike murmurs right before their lips meet once more and then there’s no more room for thought of any kind.

It’s a kiss that’s nearly as soft as their first real one, but it feels like it goes on forever. El wishes it really would. Mike’s mouth is soft and warm against hers, lips only a little chapped from the cold. And the way his mouth gently moves in tandem with hers sends shivers up and down her spine, shivers that have _nothing_ to do with the cold and everything to do with the reverence with which he kisses her. His hands don’t wander, he doesn’t try to pull her closer to him (though she wouldn’t stop him if he did) – instead, El feels cherished in a way she’s never felt before in her entire life.

It doesn’t matter what Christmas presents await for her when she gets home, El realizes – she’s already gotten the only present she needs.

This time, when the kiss comes to an end, neither of them move in for another. It’s late and they each have final exams in the morning and both of them are smart enough to know that it’s not the best idea to linger outside kissing when it’s snowing outside, heavier and heavier as the minutes pass. 

“It’s getting pretty cold out here,” Mike says, cheeks flushed (though only _partially_ from the cold, if it's anything like what’s happening on El’s face right now).

“Yeah, and we have finals. Very important finals,” El says, nodding in agreement with the words Mike isn’t saying, but ones she hears so clearly.

Mike puts a few inches of space between them. “I should go and you should go.”

El follows Mike’s example and steps back onto her heels. “Yeah, we should,” she says as her hand slips from his cheek.

“So, um, I’ll text you the details for our date once I figure it out,” Mike says with a breathless laugh.

El giggles. “Just not _where_ we’ll be going, right?”

Mike’s lips – those beautiful and, El can now confirm, perfectly kissable lips – quirk up in a lopsided grin. “Well, just the crucial details, then.”

Another laugh escapes El and she pulls back the rest of the way. “Good night, Mike,” she says through her giggles.

Mike’s grin doubles in size, but there’s a softness to it that almost takes her breath away. “Good night, El.”

They turn to go their separate ways, but El only makes it a couple of steps before she stops and turns back around to call out to Mike. “Hey, Mike?”

He stops and turns back to her, curiosity and a little bit of panic on his face. “Yeah, El?”

El smiles, cheeks hurting from the force of the expression. “I’m really glad we stumbled on that café.”

Mike lets out a jubilant laugh and the smile on his face is so bright, it’s almost blinding. Snow falls down around him, flakes delicately dusting his hair, and the way the light from the streetlamps surrounds him makes it look like he’s wrapped in a halo. If El could keep _any_ memory of this night with her and hold it close, it might just be the way he looks right now, beautiful and handsome and sparkling. “Yeah, me too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all enjoyed that! And happy holidays everyone!!


End file.
